Touch the Sky
by Crimson Teardrop
Summary: A songfic to James Blunt's You're Beautiful, featuring Harry and Draco, of course.


**Disclaimer**: I do not in any way own JK Rowling's "fictional" characters. If I _did_, Harry and Draco would be **_shagging _**like _bunnies_ by now--or in anyway do I own James Blunt's "You're Beautiful".

A/N: This is my second story, and I hope you enjoy! By the way, I DO need a beta, so message me if you're interested!

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_**Touch the Sky**_

**My life is brilliant. My life is brilliant. My love is pure.**

_Today is the happiest day of my life. I suppose it's because you bought me a gift. And, if I say that, I would be lying through my teeth. What has got me jumping for joy, with wonders flying throughout my head, are three simple words. I love you._

_You said it back today; I very nearly cried there. It could've been a cruel joke played out by—you, of course. But no, you looked at me with eyes of slate grey—pure with unrelenting love, it was **sincere**. Whispered, uttered, those three words that sometimes mean nothing. This time, I convinced myself—it was **real**. _

**I saw an angel. Of that I'm sure. You're beautiful. You're beautiful. You're beautiful, it's true.**

_You know, you really **are **pretty. Surreal, almost, like someone scattered angel dust on your body. You skin is unblemished, smooth, creamy. It is **pure **alabaster—the most rich and expensive, of course. You even have a head of flaxen silk, catering to your every whim, whether it's up or down—every strand perfect, of course. When you stand, you're a tower—not only are you a few inches above me; you radiate surges of class and power. You are an **aristocrat**, of course._

**I saw your face in a crowded place, and I don't know what to do,**

_I saw you at one of their **meetings**, once. **Only** once—never do I want to see (or hear) those hideous words spill from your mouth again. That must be your **only **flaw. Heaven forbid! You killed that 4 year-old girl's parents. How could you! The only thing in my mind that even made it past my lips when you got home—murderer! I know what its like to be an orphan. She has no one. But, I forgave you—again, of course._

**Yeah, you caught my eye, as we walked on by. You could see from my face that I was, fucking high.**

_Have I mentioned—you're a fucking drug? You're my crack. I **need** you—can't live without it, can barely afford it. You make me scream, cry, laugh. Ecstasy flows through my blood. You're my **poison**. We talked about this once. You told me I was insane—stupid even, of course._

**And I don't think that I'll see you again, but we shared a moment that will last till the end.**

_No! I cried. You said they were attacking tomorrow. I screamed, I punched you—I made you bleed, I made you hurt. I controlled you. I nearly **killed** you. I think that would've been a nicer fate. We shared one night, you said you love me. _

_The next day, you put on that disgusting mask, tied your hair back, and the robes—you looked like your father. I told you that. You slapped me and cried, "Never!" I held my cheek and locked my eyes with yours. You looked at me with grave eyes and I nodded. This was a 'Goodbye' not an 'I'll see you later'. Or so we thought…_

**You're beautiful. You're beautiful. You're beautiful, it's true.**

_Only the truly beautiful can look surreally stunning in death. A blow—green like my eyes struck you from the back. I screamed. My best friend killed you—my lover, of course. Irony's a bitch and she hates me. I toyed with it in my head. My best friend killed my lover... I lifted my arm, and killed him too. I wanted to see him on the other side as well, we needed to talk. I looked around for the cruel, unforgiving man that started it all. I stabbed him—with my wand…how anti-climatic, of course. _

_Then, I looked for the second man…Harry-fucking-Potter, the boy-who-wouldn't-bloody-die. After, it finally sunk in. I rolled it around on my tongue. Then, I yelled it, "My best friend killed my lover—Draco Malfoy," the whole war, stopped, of course, how fucking typical. They watched as the boy-who-lived, took his own life. **What could've been…**_

**There must be an angel with a smile on her face, when she thought up that I should be with you.**

_We shared laughs, smiles, and even happy times—a rose given, a nice dinner, our **two-year** anniversary. Nights alone, they were peaceful. Trysts in closets in between our meetings, which was enjoyable. It was forbidden. It was adrenaline. It was a way of life. It **is** my life._

**But it's time to face the truth; I will never be with you.**

_It's simple, you're going to Heaven—you're an angel. I'm going to Hell. They never meet. One day, love, one day, Heaven and Hell will combine. Because I'll freeze Hell over—I'm the boy-who-lived. I **will** touch the sky._


End file.
